


The Duel

by dedougal



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:05:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some bets go too far. Especially ones involving stripping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Duel

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to bewaretheides15, zuben_eschmali and peppervl for the "encouragement" to write this.

Some bets go too far. At least that was what Jensen suddenly realised as he drew off his t-shirt and tossed it into the space between him and Jared. He’d tried to make it as sexy as he could, flirting with the hemline, turning his back for the slow reveal of skin before finally whipping it up and off. Opposite him, Jared was mostly unmoved, eyes flicking over Jensen’s now naked torso. Jensen resisted the urge to cross his arms over his belly like he’d done back in high school. Instead he placed one hand on a cocked hip and affected impatience.

Jared let his hand caress his front, smoothing the thin black material down over muscles that had muscles. Defined fucker. Jensen knew the blood, sweat and protein shakes that gave Jared the body that millions drooled over but he took it as a personal insult as Jared, swinging his hips to some internal beat, slowly – so slowly – drew the shirt over his head. Jared’s t-shirt joined Jensen’s on the floor, but Jared seemed to know what to do next, running his hands through his dishevelled hair, making every line on his chest and his arms flex and bunch. Time seemed to slow, pause, as Jensen took in every inch of the man in front of him.

It was enough to make him call off the bet. Almost enough.

“C’mon, Jensen. Put some effort into it.”

Jensen grit his teeth. Then he relaxed his jaw. He could do this. He could ramp this bizarre alcohol-induced-but-soberly-recollected bet up to something that would blow the socks off gay chicken. In his head, a slow baseline provided the beat for his next moves. He swivelled his hips a little, something akin to a slow grind, before flicking the button on his jeans open. His belt already lay open, leather slapping against his thighs, and Jensen slid his hand down over his belly, brushing his fingertips into the open gap. He kept his eyes on Jared, desperate to appear nonchalant.

Jared’s cheeks were red. It wasn’t a faint haze or a blush. It was full on flames. Jensen felt every notch on his zipper as he lowered it, secretly enjoying the way Jared’s eyes seemed glued to his hand’s movements and the way Jared’s breathing was speeding up. Jensen was aware he was licking his lips when Jared’s eyes shot up to his mouth. Suddenly done with the teasing, Jensen dropped the jeans to the floor, kicked them into the pile of clothes and waited on Jared to follow suit.

Instead Jared turned his back to Jensen. “Yeah. You win.” His voice was a little shaky and Jensen frowned. No way did Jared back down from a bet this easily. “I’ll wear the Mavs shirt next game.”

Jensen wasn’t quite sure what to do, not with Jared stiff and tense in front of him. “Hey,” he tried, crossing the space between them and laying a soft palm on Jared’s shoulder blade. Jared jerked away from the touch, still keeping his back to Jensen.

“I… Sorry, Jen. Just gotta-“ Jared tried to slide past Jensen to the door.

Reaching out Jensen caught Jared’s narrow waist when he reached out, surprising Jared into turning around to get free. It was then that Jensen realised exactly why he’d won the bet. The bulge in Jared’s jeans was plain to see.

Jensen had a flash then of letting Jared go, letting him slide out of the door and them never speaking of their adventures in stripping ever again. That was quickly obliterated by the feel of Jared’s smooth skin under his palms, the way Jared’s breathing was still heavy and by the glassy look in his eyes as he took in Jensen’s tight-fitting boxer briefs before throwing his gaze to the ceiling and biting down on his bottom lip. All the reasons why Jensen should step away vanished. It was an automatic reflex. Jared was upset; Jensen would make it all better.

Crowding close, Jensen let his voice drop, low, gravel. “But I didn’t get to finish the show…” He brought one hand up to tease at Jared’s nipple. It tightened under the callus of his fingertips. Jensen traced the fingertip down, following the cut of Jared’s abs, the thin line of hair that led to his belt buckle. Jensen stepped back then. He wouldn’t force Jared into this. Instead Jensen hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and looked expectantly at Jared.

He didn’t have long to wait. Jared fumbled open his jeans, hissing a little as he freed his cock from the denim. There was no more attempt to “be the best stripper”. Instead Jared shoved the jeans down, almost tripping as he stepped out of them and came to press his nearly naked self to Jensen, hands on Jensen’s own. “You sure?”

Jensen nodded, lowering his underwear over his own rapidly filling cock. Jared’s boxers came off even more easily and in the next breath they were kissing like there was nothing else in the world, lips parting eagerly for the other’s tongue. Jared drew Jensen’s lower lip between his teeth, teasing it to the edge of pain. In retaliation, Jensen worked his hand in between their grinding hips and captured their cocks in his grip. Jared jerked at that before his kisses became harder, possessive and fierce. Eventually, he lost the power to do that, panting wetly into the crook of Jensen’s shoulder, licking and kissing open mouthed at his neck. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” spilled from Jared’s lips as he came apart due to Jensen’s skilful ministrations. Jensen used the slick to bring himself off, looking down to see his come against Jared’s tanned belly. The sight made his knees buckle, his head spin. Jensen let Jared lead them, stumbling and unable to stop touching, to the sofa against the back wall of the trailer. Their kissing slowed from frantic to something languid, like they had the rest of time to explore the other’s mouth and jaw and neck. A banging at the door brought them back to their senses.

While they were scrambling back into their clothes, Jensen felt a wave of bone deep contentment. Everything seemed to fall into place. He pointed at Jared, cheesy grin in firmly in place. “I’m still going to make you wear the Mavs t-shirt. One mind-blowing orgasm does not get you out of that.”

Jared pouted, then tossed his head back and laughed. Jensen laughed with him, relief and happiness unable to be contained any longer.

Jared waited until they were back on set before he leaned over. “Well, I bet I can make you scream while I suck your cock.” Jensen looked up at him, taking in the cocky grin. That was a bet he looked forward to losing.


End file.
